


BLACKSKY

by kirkhammer



Series: INVENTORY [3]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: eye gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:48:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29814192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirkhammer/pseuds/kirkhammer
Summary: "...But in the end revealed nothing."
Series: INVENTORY [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894123
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	BLACKSKY

This one, he kept. 

In his hand it watched, relentlessly. Years had passed and nothing had yet faded its bright, vicious blue. Rafael kept it in a small leaden box. The same box that had once held treasures for him, stolen from the whispering dark far, far below. Before he had realised that, much like his brother, starved to bone in the darkness but still clawing his way towards the light; this eye refused to rot. 

He had a way with eyes, you see. Some sort of magnetism between the edge of his scalpel and that soft, tender pink around them. The burst of the blade through flesh. He had shivered at his peers hacking their way through it as if carving a pig and tugging an eye from its socket like underripe fruit. But Rafael, well, his knife pared eye from skull like hot iron through ice. Perhaps he might have learned it from the Witches - had they ever been to the Orphanage, or he outside of it. 

For all the fervour around them, for all those skulls cracked open (beak and snail and rock, he might think, if he’d ever had an interest in those things), their coarse hollows meticulously pawed for those all important indents, inverse barnacles on the bow of a vast boat: for all their shapes carved and cravings howled, Rafael knew - or at least, believed he knew - an eye was little more than a hardy piece of strange meat. 

He had split enough of them to know. Enough to ink a new ravine below the city, or repaint the sky. He had filled sour, brimming jars with pillars of them, their colours still captive, sealed linen lids with ivory wax and watched each iris cloud and fade. He had cut the whole eye, sprouting towers of soft, crumbling fungus from the bloody chasm in a living man’s brow. He’d pressed, delicately, the frayed pupils of the lost, the blood wild, between feathers of glass and learned the kaleidoscope patterns trapped within by the light of the moon. He knew so well the exact estimation of the organ that when he touched his thumb to the soft, pale pad of each finger he could feel the memory of each layer, coursing through his nerves like static. The firm fibrous platinum sinew that parts like paper under his blade. That first gleaming swell of clear, trembling jelly. The weeping black that leaks from it. And within, like a diamond, that perfect, smooth lens, impossible glass polished by an improbable tide.

He had plucked the blind eye from his brother. When his vision too had dimmed. He had cut the blind eye from his brother and watched him scream as mercury silvered the newly hollowed socket. 

But were they not all brothers here? Shared blood made the two of them no more so than their kin of cloth, and their shared face... less shared now, than when they were boys. Between the slick little orb in Rafael’s fingers and whatever twisted shapes the under earth had carved from his lost brother, there was no longer any lingering doubt that they were the same. He knew, of course, that they never had been.

If only his knife had cut deeper.

If only he had spared them both the _shame_.

Every breath his brother took in the tomb of the gods, every mark his touch left on something Holy, was greater than any wretched blasphemy his own order could concoct.

Konstantin’s dead eye gleamed. Crystal hard and butter soft. Ten thousand tiny paradoxes, between Rafael’s fingers. A vast universe within. Through that pinprick spot of impossible black, Rafael could see the cosmos churn. He did not know what made it glow.

He never would.

**Author's Note:**

> "Gee, I hope nothing bad happens to Rafael!" - not me, ever. 
> 
> Please check out this beautiful art of these terrible twins.   
> https://twitter.com/eldrtchmoon/status/1366436308441329667?s=20
> 
> And read this if you'd like to know a little about Konstantin! (a very little) https://archiveofourown.org/works/24793150


End file.
